The Road to Acceptance
by ChoCedric
Summary: Death Eaters attacked the Quidditch World Cup. History is repeating itself, like some sort of twisted time warp. A story of Molly Weasley as she learns to come to terms with the fact that the war will inevitably begin again.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: No, I'm not dead. I'm very much alive, but my inspiration has been lacking for a long while now and I haven't felt the urge to write anything. But all of a sudden I feel like I can write the words I haven't been able to express for ages.

This fic is in Molly Weasley's perspective, detailing how she comes to terms with history repeating itself and the reality that the war will indeed start again. This was a very emotional fic to write, and I'd love feedback on it. As I wrote it, I thought of the wars we all, as human beings, must fight every day - whether they are figurative or literal, we must all fight our own demons and come to accept those things of which we cannot change.

Enjoy!

The Road to Acceptance

By: ChoCedric

Molly Weasley sat at her kitchen table with a smile, picking up her warm cup of tea and sipping it contentedly. The Burrow, which at this time of year was usually packed with the hustle and bustle of her family, was silent, but it was a comfortable silence. As much as the sounds of her big, healthy family filled her with joy, she couldn't help but enjoy the solitude sometimes.

Yesterday, Arthur had taken her children, along with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, to the Quidditch World Cup. Molly had never been interested in Quidditch like the rest of them, so was happy to let them go and have a good time without her. In the meantime, she could make the house look spick and span for their return. Cleaning was one of her favorite activities; it had the power to soothe her even on her worst days when darkness seemed to hang over her.

As she continued to sip at her tea, thoughts flooded through her mind. She was so grateful to have the family that she did. There was Arthur with his silly, mischievous ways, and even though he infuriated her to no end sometimes, the thought of living even one day without him was not something she wanted to even consider. Her twins, Fred and George, even through the worst of times, always had a joke to share, and they reminded her so much of her heroic brothers, Gideon and Fabian, that it made her heart ache. There were Bill and Charlie, who were now living away from home and who had made excellent lives for themselves. There was Percy, who wasn't like the rest of them - he was sometimes way too serious for his own good, in her opinion - but she cherished him all the same. And there was her little Ronnie, who was always striving to be the best at everything. And lastly, there was Ginny, the precious little girl she had always wanted, who was strong, passionate, and fiery.

At that moment, an owl flew in through the kitchen window, the morning's edition of the Daily Prophet tied to its leg. Molly smiled as she extracted it, giving the owl a treat. It hooted, as if in thanks, and flew out the window again, leaving Molly to find out the news for the day.

But as Molly unrolled the paper and stared at the headline, her world swayed, tilted, and shattered off of its axis. She continued to stare fixedly at the words, a cold numbness taking over her. She suddenly couldn't feel her body anymore - it was as if she were outside herself, looking in.

For printed on the paper were the words of her worst fears, her darkest nightmares, and the picture accompanying them was no better. At that moment she swore she had regressed, travelling years and years into the past. At that moment, everything she had accomplished in all those years was swept away, no longer tangible or real. It was all gone, and all she had were those mocking, ominous words taunting her from the page, and the picture that froze the blood in her veins.

DEATH EATERS ATTACK QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP, the headline read, and a picture of the grotesque, hideous Dark Mark was seen underneath it.

And it was then that the numbness left her, but the feeling that replaced it was a thousand times worse. God, NO! Her children ... her family ... they were all there! Pure terror gripped her as sweat beaded on her forehead, her hands grew clammy, and her heart began to race.

For the past few years, she'd been trying to deny that things were starting to head in a direction she did not like. The Philosopher's Stone incident ... Ginny, her Ginny, being taken by pure evil ... Sirius Black escaping from Azkaban ... Denial. That was the technique she'd been using. Denial, denial, denial. It couldn't be happening again. A wizard who was dead couldn't be resurrected. It wasn't possible. Thirteen years ago she'd thought it was over. Over for good. Celebrations had rocked the land as it was conveyed that Voldemort, the dark cloud who had been permeating the world for eleven years before that day, was gone. Never to return. Never to darken anyone's doorstep again, never to shatter dreams or hopes of any person ever again. She remembered how happy she had been as she held her family close, no longer having to look over her shoulder for fear of attack to herself or any of them.

But as the Dark Mark glared at her from the front page of the Prophet she couldn't deny it any longer. History was repeating itself; this was some sort of sick, twisted time warp she was living in. Had she somehow died, travelled to an alternate universe, one which was entitled "Hell?" Were things like this really supposed, ALLOWED, to happen again? She couldn't lose any more family ... she just couldn't! The loss of her brothers had been bad enough! Letting out an anguished sob, her head dropped to the table with a thunk.

xxx

That night, she and Arthur lay in their bed, both tossing and turning, completely sleepless, worries and demons and fears twisting and turning in both their minds. The relief Molly had felt to see her family safe and alive when they'd returned had been indescribable, but a cynical voice in the back of her mind kept repeating: They're safe for now. Only for now, Molly. Don't get used to it. "Arthur?" she said softly as she turned on her side to look at the man lying next to her.

"Yes, Molly?" Arthur answered, putting an arm around her.

"This isn't real. Please tell me this isn't real. Pinch me, Arthur, make me wake up. Tell me this is just a dream," Molly rambled as she buried her face in her husband's shoulder.

A pained look came over the man's face as he stared at his distraught wife. "I'm sorry, Molly," he whispered. "I can't."

"Oh God," Molly choked out. Since her tears this morning, she'd tried to put on a brave face for her family - she was supposed to be the pillar of strength, the matriarch. She wasn't supposed to break down. But now, here with Arthur, she was tired of being strong, so, so tired. She wanted, needed, to break, and she only felt comfortable doing it around him. "This is ... what year is it, Arthur?" she moaned. "Has all this peace ... all the things we've done, accomplished ... God, we've worked so hard ... has it all just been in my head?"

"No, darling, but I know how you feel," Arthur soothed. "It feels like some kind of ... time warp."

"Yes," said Molly, marveling at how Arthur could know that those were the exact words she had thought this morning.

"It's going to be all right. We're going to get through this. We're the Weasleys," said Arthur, and it was at those words that Molly's resolve completely crumbled. She completely broke down, sobbing into his chest.

Pain tore at Arthur's heart. He hadn't seen Molly so broken since the day they'd buried Gideon and Fabian six feet below the ground, and she was forced to participate in throwing dirt on top of their coffins. "This is hell," she wailed, her entire body convulsing. She felt trapped, claustrophobic, as the fear consumed her. "I can't!" she began to chant, each repetition of the words punctuated by a sob. "I can't ... I can't ... I can't! I can't live through this again ... I can't live through this again ... not again ... not again! It feels just like it did before! It feels exactly the same as it did before!"

And Arthur allowed her the moment. A few tears fell down his own face as he held her close.

But even as his heart shattered at seeing her so broken, he suddenly had an epiphany. Those tears, those shouts of "I can't!" and "it feels exactly like it did before!" were her way of slowly coming to terms with what was happening. To anyone else, this train of thought wouldn't sound logical, but he somehow knew it was true. Her tears, as well as being ones of anguish, were the tears of one who was finally coming out of denial, of one who would learn to accept everything that would come. Her breaking down was actually a healthy reaction, as strange as it sounded. Her breakdown was actually her acceptance of a fact that they would all have to face, whether it be in a week, two weeks, a month, or five years.

xxx

And less than a year later, the day came, and the words Molly had known were coming were finally said, spoken by Harry Potter as he clutched onto the lifeless body of the Second War's first casualty, Cedric Diggory.

"He's back ... he's back ... Voldemort's back! Cedric ... he asked me to bring his body back. I couldn't leave him ... not there."

The moments afterwards were a blur. The pitch was filled with screams and sobs, the wails of Mr. Diggory tearing every heart in two. The next time she could think coherently, it was hours later as she sat at Harry's bedside in the hospital wing. The poor child looked so frail and helpless as he slept, and a surge of fierce protectiveness swept over Molly.

As she sat and stared at Harry's innocent face, she pondered why she hadn't reacted more violently to the news of You-Know-Who's return, and she had it worked out in a matter of minutes. Arthur had never told her his thoughts on that night she'd broken down in his arms all those months ago, so he'd never know how true they had been. But Molly came to the conclusion that on that night, and in the months to follow, she'd been given time to get used to living in a world with You-Know-Who as a part of it again. And during that time, her resolve had strengthened. As she looked into the eyes of her oldest son, Bill, and he gazed back at her with the same intensity, the firmness of a promise she'd made to herself never wavered, even now that the day she'd prepared for had come upon them. She vowed to do all that she could to keep her family safe.

"You okay, Mum?" Bill asked, putting a comforting arm around her.

"Yes," Molly replied, giving him a smile, one that reached her eyes. "I am. We'll all be okay, Bill. We'll all be."


End file.
